


Please, Carol.

by ModernCoffee



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Gen, Gore, Hermitcraft - Freeform, enjoy ig, idk its just a drabble, zombiefying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernCoffee/pseuds/ModernCoffee
Summary: Cleo can only trust Carol. Carol, despite their supposed bad blood, agrees to Cleo's request.tw: Gore (from Cleo being turned back into a zombie)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Please, Carol.

**Author's Note:**

> im. obsessed w carol. dlkjdbgbdvsjz its all i am hyperfixated on at the moment.

Carol grumbles at Cleo, huffing. "Why is it always you who gets into trouble?" she asks rhetorically, her tone outlandish.  
"Carol, now is not the time-"  
"You made yourself a human only to die again! It is the time"  
"Carol.. please" Cleo says desperately, putting on the best puppy-eyed face she can.  
Carol glares at Cleo, which frankly hurts her eyes as Cleo is a literal beacon of neon colours ('how did she even manage to become so neon??'). "Alright-" "thank you!!-" "but! But. You owe me."  
"That's fair" Cleo says with a rough chuckle, grinning lopsidedly. Her bright, neon green eyes bore painfully into Carol's irises.

Cleo had to admit- she forgot how painful it was to die at the mercy of a Zombie. Dull teeth shredding skin painfully slow; at least it feels slow even though in reality it's pretty quick. She can feel every tiny tug at the skin, the stretch, the ripping, as Carol bites a chunk of skin off. Cleo muffles a yelp, feeling herself drift out of consciousness as her body struggles to handle the pain that she can't really feel.

The stench of blood fills her senses, the feeling of bile stuck in her throat blocking her air-way makes her body tremble violently. She sees the ground beneath her, her hair waving about, blood trailing. The sound of Carol hushing Cleo helps Cleo drift back to unconsciousness. They may have bad blood, but they still care about each other; an unfortunate bond of the undead between them.  
She feels the exact moment her body gives out on her; the infection having already taken over part of her nervous system as well as crowding her blood stream, neuro-system and sensory outputs. Her heart stopped. She felt empty as she opened her eyes to stare at the blood soaked legs of Carol.

Being woken up from a deep slumber made her grumble in disapproval, barely able to open her eyes. “Cleo, I need you to drink this.. Come on now Hon” Carol mumbles quietly, sounding almost motherly as she helps Cleo drink a potion.  
“Where ‘m i..” Cleo barely manages to say. Carol merely hushes her, running a hand through some of Cleos’ hair. Cleo whimpers exhaustedly before going back to sleep.

Red. Black. White. The Smell of copper. The smell of rotting. The smell of fear. All she can feel is fear. Fear is everywhere. Fear is her. Fear is them. Fear is everyone. It is everything. The screams, the abandonment of her patrol. Blood. Is it blood? Who’s blood? Why?  
Cleo startles awake with a sudden cry out loud, shaking. She shakes her head before putting it in her hands. “God.. thought I was past that..” she mumbles, tears wetting her palms as she wipes them away. She takes a deep breath, before noticing a book set at the end of her bed.  
“Now we’re even.. Carol” she reads out from the book, chuckling. She’ll have to thank her later for taking care of her. Cleo basks in the natural feeling of being undead once again.


End file.
